Photo by Ruel Calitis on Unsplash
Hidden
with my habits
built on pain
it eludes me
how I try to manage
your experience of me
not in control of my narrative
my stories
continue to deceive me
I am afraid of being too much
or not enough
here – I said it
but do I feel it,
or hide behind my words?
you see the real me—
the one who can’t hide
when I stumble,
cry, mess up,
or say the wrong thing
how often do I shape,
explain,
contain my feelings
instead of just feeling
what shows up,
without doing anything with it?
how often do I dress up
in clever words,
overexplaining myself,
rushing in to fix us?
there is gold
I don’t have to dig for—
found in what you mirror back